


fall (apart) with you

by ExyCherry



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Badass Katara (Avatar), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Katara/Zuko (Avatar), F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Mutual Pining, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, honestly we love that for her, no beta we die like men, she chips jet's tooth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:07:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26117734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExyCherry/pseuds/ExyCherry
Summary: no matter what, they are always there to put each other back together again
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Suki background
Comments: 20
Kudos: 67





	fall (apart) with you

**Author's Note:**

> originally i was going to title this 'all our broken pieces' but that's already a published novel
> 
> update: just so y'all know i accidentally sent the link to my music theory zoom lecture so if you're from that class don't say a goddamn thing

Zuko’s mother dies on a Wednesday when he’s seventeen. He’s devastated, and Katara’s there to pick up the pieces when he shows up drunk on her front porch the next night. She holds him close as he sobs, shivering in the autumn air that blows across his skin. She drapes her cardigan over his shaking shoulders and whispers gently into his hair.

The following day, he’s hand-in-hand with Mai as they walk the halls of their overcrowded high school. He doesn’t talk about his mother with a soul. He puts on a smile and goes about business as usual, and he ignores the concerned looks his best friend sends him throughout the day. 

He goes home with an aching heart, and leaves soon after with a fresh set of bruises mottling the skin of his torso. He steals a bottle from the expensive liquor cabinet on the way out. If Azula notices, she doesn’t say anything.

He winds up on Katara’s porch again, significantly drunker this time. She ushers him inside and up to her room, confiscates the half-empty bottle clenched in his sweaty fist, then goes into the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit.

She patches him up without a word, but there are silent tears trailing down her cheeks.

Zuko has a drawer in her dresser, so he changes into sweatpants and lays on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. Katara lays next to him and folds her hands on her stomach. They do this often, taking solace in the quiet security each other’s presence provides. She’d talked about her parents for the first time on this floor; he’d told her the truth about his scar.

She keeps the first aid kit because of him. The first time he’d shown up after a beating, he’d been bleeding from several places. She’d ripped up an old tshirt and soaked it in hydrogen peroxide, then covered his freshly cleaned wounds with Hello Kitty bandages. The second time it happened, there was a kit waiting for him.

_ “You don’t need to do that,” he said gently. _

_ “Shut up.” _

“I wish you would go live with your uncle,” Katara says suddenly, breaking the silence.

“And leave you?” Zuko slurs drunkenly. “I’d never, Kat.”

“Don’t say shit like that. You’re seeing someone.”

“I don’t love her.”

“Well I hope you don’t tell her that!”

Zuko laughs and hiccups, turning to face her. She’s beautiful. He’s in love with her.

“I’m in love with you,” he says.

“You’re drunk, Zuko.”

“I am in  _ love  _ with you, Kat!” he declares, louder this time. He pumps his fist in the air and whoops. She reaches out to cover his mouth quickly.

“Gran Gran is asleep, and Sokka’s across the hall. Hush.”

He grabs her wrist and kisses her palm. To his delight, she sighs. 

“I’m in love with you,” he says again, softly this time.

“Zuko, please. Don’t.”

She stands and crosses the room to sit on the foot of her bed. He makes as if to follow her, but his head spins when he moves, and she runs to catch him as he falls. 

“You’ll bash your head open,” she chides.

“Promise you’ll patch me up?”

“Of course I would. You know I would.”

She deposits him on her mattress with an unceremonious huff. He immediately reaches for her waist and pulls her down beside him. She doesn’t resist, allowing him to tuck her into his chest and inhale deeply.

“Did you switch your shampoo?” he asks.

“Go to sleep, Zuko.”

“It smells different than the last one.”

She sighs again and shakes her head. This boy will be the death of her.

“Goodnight, Zuko.”

Katara wakes up to a face full of boy. Zuko is warm and his arms are tight around her. Damn him for being so solid. She desperately needs to use the bathroom, and the only way to get up will be waking him. She wants to stay here forever.

She’s so irrevocably in love with him it hurts. She wants to shield him from the world, take him away from it all and get a place in Ba Sing Se like they’d talked about when they were kids. She’s not so keen on the gummy bear chandelier now as she’d been when she was seven.

“Zuko,” she whispers, shoving him lightly. “Wake up. I need to get up.”

Zuko doesn’t budge.

“Tui and La, why does it have to be me?” she grumbles.

The arms wrapped around her waist tighten at the statement. There’s no way she’ll be able to get up at this rate, not without pulling a cheap shot that’ll scare the shit out of him in the process. She tilts her chin up and directs her voice towards his ear anyway.

“Oh, Zuzu,” she croons, mocking his sister to the best of her ability.

It works too well. 

Zuko wakes with a shout and shoves her off of him, roughly enough that she rolls onto the floor with a hearty thump and bangs her head against the nightstand.

“Agni, Katara, are you alright?”

She touches her fingers to the point of impact and they come back clean. The injury is throbbing, but there’s no blood, and for that she’s grateful. 

“Yeah,” she says, pulling herself to her feet with a sheepish smile. “How’s your head? You drank a lot last night.”

“I’ll live,” he says with a wince.

“How’s your chest?”

“Fine.”

“Are you hungry? I can make eggs.”

“I’m okay, Katara. Really. You don’t have to worry about me.”

The bandages peeking above the neckline of his shirt say otherwise, but she keeps this to herself.

“I’m always going to worry about you, dumbass.”

“About last night,” he says, switching gears. “Did we—did something happen? I can’t really remember.”

“No,” Katara lies. His confessions were nothing but drunken ramblings. He didn’t need to know. “Why would it?”

“No reason,” Zuko says. He’s relieved. For a moment he thought he’d confessed his feelings, which would’ve been a disaster. “I didn’t tell my mom I was going out. She’ll be worried. I’ll text you later?”

Katara’s face falls, and he remembers then why he’d gotten drunk enough to come over in the first place. He swallows heavily and dashes away the tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

“Oh, Zuko,” she whispers. He falls apart.

Sokka knocks on her bedroom door around three in the afternoon. Katara opens the door to find her brother’s goofy smile staring back at her. 

“Hey, Zuko!” he greets cheerily. Zuko raises his hand in a half-wave. 

“What do you want, Sokka?” Katara asks.

“Suki’s having a party tonight. She told me to invite you. Zuko can come too!”

“Oh, I don’t—”

“We’ll be there,” Zuko interrupts, flashing a bright smile. Sokka beams.

“Great! I’ll let her know!”

Katara shuts the door with a sigh.

“We don’t have to go,” she says.

“I want to. It’ll look weird if we don’t, anyway,” Zuko replies nonchalantly.

“Are you sure?”

She’s heart-breakingly soft with him as her too-blue eyes meet his own. He wants to drown in her.

“I’m sure. Besides, if I back out he’ll ask why.”

“You haven’t told him?”

Zuko shakes his head. “Only you.”

She throws her arms around his torso and pulls him tight against her. He lets her hold him, drawing strength from the care she pours into him. He’s invincible by her side; he’s on top of the world.

Suki’s party is in full swing when Zuko escorts Katara inside. Her hair is pulled into a sleek ponytail, and her sleeveless top is doing things to him he’s not sure should be legal. He wants to kiss her bare collarbone, and he’s still sober. It’s a terrible idea to be with her right now. He stays glued to her side anyway.

“Katara! Zuko! Glad you could make it!” Suki greets cheerfully. “There’s beers and Whiteclaw in the fridge and hard shit on the kitchen table. Help yourself!”

She flutters off before the pair can state their thanks, so Zuko leads Katara towards the promise of alcohol and practically crows in delight at the sight of his good friend José Cuervo. 

“How can you drink that?” Katara asks, crinkling her nose at his red Solo cup.

“How can  _ you _ drink  _ that _ , hm?” Zuko replies, nodding to the hard seltzer in her hand.

“Because it doesn’t taste like hand sanitizer.”

“The lady has a point,” a new voice cuts in. 

“Hello, Jet!” Katara says with a smile far too friendly for Zuko’s liking.

“Hey Katara, Zuko,” Jet replies smoothly. “Mind if I steal you for a dance?”

“Yes,” Zuko says without thinking. 

“I didn’t ask you,” Jet says, a warning tone in his voice. “Is your name Katara? No.”

Katara makes as if to interject, but Jet’s dragging her off to dance before she can get a word in. Zuko doesn’t trust Jet’s skeevy hands on his girl, and he has half a mind to go after him, but he knows Katara can handle herself, and he’ll step in if he needs to.

Not two minutes later there’s a loud crack and a yelp, and Katara’s storming back over to him with blood on her knuckles. There’s fury in her eyes as she grabs him by the wrist and pulls him towards the bathroom, and it’s not until the door clicks shut that her expression morphs into something more tearful.

“What did he do?” Zuko asks darkly.

“Leave it, Zuko. Can you just help me?”

She gestures to her bruising knuckles. There’s too much blood to really see what’s going on, but most of it doesn’t appear to be hers. He finds a washcloth and wets it, cleaning up her hand gingerly as she talks.

“I hit him in the mouth,” she says. “I think I chipped his tooth.”

“Can you move your thumb?”

She shakes her head and winces when he touches it.

“I haven’t punched anyone before, you know.”

“You didn’t tuck your thumb in, did you?”

“I may have.”

“It’s broken,” he says unceremoniously. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No. I can’t afford that, Gran Gran will kill me.”

“Kat, please.”

“I’ll set it myself.”

“You can’t do that! Just let me take you to—”

“I said  _ no, _ Zuko.”

Agni, he’s not drunk enough for this.

“Will you let me set it, then?”

She’s still crying when she looks up to meet his gaze. Zuko’s face softens and he pulls her in for a tight hug. Her hair is soft when he combs his fingers through the brown strands, and her sobs are quiet, muffled by the fabric of his shirt

“I’ve got you,” he says gently. “I’ve got you.”

“I’m supposed to be the one cheering  _ you _ up, you know,” Katara says, tucked against Zuko’s chest in her bed. He’d splinted her thumb after leaving the party, and she has it cradled in her opposite hand now. 

“We have to take turns, Kat.” He presses a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Otherwise I’d drive you crazy.”

“You already do.”

“What are friends for?”

It pains him to say this. If only she knew how he feels about her. She’d probably run for the hills if he told her.

“Yeah,” she says. “What are friends for?”

It’s a Wednesday again when he loses another woman in his life. Mai’s cold and methodical when she breaks up with him. She says he’s too focused on other things and she doesn’t feel appreciated anymore. He apologizes, and they go their separate ways.

Just as before, Katara is there to pick up the pieces. They settle into her well-loved sofa and put  _ Friends _ on the television. Making fun of the show is one of their favorite things to do together. Every episode concludes with Katara cursing out Ross and Zuko rubbing calming circles on her back.

“Her funeral is Friday,” Zuko says during the silence between episodes.

“Oh, Zuko,” Katara says softly.

“Azula said she’s not coming. She wants to go out with Mai and Ty Lee instead.”

“No offense, but I hate your sister.”

“Come with me?”

A pause.

“Zuko, I—”

“I can’t do it alone, Kat.”

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll come.”

“My father will be there.”

“I won’t make a scene if you don’t,” she teases lightly.

“No promises,” Zuko fires back, pulling her close and settling his arms around her waist. “One more episode?”

Ursa’s funeral is lovely, all things considered. Azula’s chair is empty; Ozai sits alone. The rites are hurried. Ozai’s eulogy is bitter and forced, and Zuko wants to throttle him. He refrains, but only to spare Katara and his uncle the pain of his own undoing.

Uncle Iroh speaks with Ozai for no more than a minute after the ceremony comes to a close. The other guests in attendance are distant relatives Zuko’s never met, and a handful of men from his father’s law firm. They treat him coolly, and his relatives comment on how much he’s grown. Katara holds onto his arm the whole time.

It’s good that she does, because if one more stranger comments on his father searching for a new bride, there’ll be another funeral to hold.

Uncle Iroh greets Zuko and Katara with warm hugs and a well-meaning comment on how lucky Zuko is to have such a lovely girlfriend. Zuko’s good cheek warms and Katara laughs softly.

“Uncle, you’ve met Katara before. We’re just friends,” he says tightly. His uncle gives him a knowing look but drops the subject altogether.

“Zuko, may I speak with you privately?”

With an affirming nod from Katara, Zuko allows his uncle to lead him off to the side.

“Nephew, I am returning to Ba Sing Se tonight. I have a spare room, if you wish to stay with me.”

He glances over at Katara, who has been roped into conversation with a woman who introduced herself as Aunt Wu, and his heart clenches painfully.

“I can’t,” he says, shaking his head.

“You love her, don’t you?”

Zuko nods stiffly. His father had started talking to Katara in the three seconds he’d looked away, and by the look on her face, she wants nothing more than to leave immediately.

“I do,” he says. “I’m in love with her.”

“Tell her,” his uncle says simply. “You will not forgive yourself if you do not. I know you, nephew.”

“It’s good to see you, Uncle,” Zuko says curtly, effectively ending the conversation. His uncle nods and turns away, making his way to speak with some other guests.

When Zuko approaches Katara, he’s able to catch the tail end of his father’s sentence, and it makes his blood run cold.

“Father,” he says coldly, taking Katara’s arm and linking it with his own. “We’ll be leaving now.”

“I trust you will heed my warning,” his father says to Katara, not bothering to acknowledge Zuko.

“Your wife was a lovely woman,” she says instead, then allows Zuko to lead her away without another word. 

“I'll kill him,” Zuko says darkly. “He has no right to speak to you that way.”

“Don’t waste your breath,” Katara replies. “Let’s just go. We can eat raw cookie dough and watch Master Chef in our pajamas, and I’ll let you paint my nails any color you want.”

“I’ll kill him,” Zuko says again. “He threatened you. I’m already emotionally an orphan, it wouldn’t be that much of a loss.”

“I’m driving. You’re not getting behind the wheel.”

He hands over his keys without protest, and he cries the whole drive back to her house. Sokka’s in the living room when they get back, and it’s not how Zuko’d planned to break the news, but this does just fine anyway.

Sokka pats him on the back sympathetically and offers to get him a drink. Katara glares daggers at her brother, and Zuko follows her upstairs without a word. When her bedroom door closes, he sits at the foot of her bed and stares at his shoes.

Her words go in and out of his ears without registering in his brain. He feels her sit beside him and rest her head on his shoulder, and her presence is enough; it’s always been enough.

Wednesdays are cursed, Katara is convinced, because it’s a Wednesday when she and Sokka get the call that their father was killed in action. She doesn’t believe it. He’s supposed to be discharged next week, and she’s going to take him for dinner at the burger shack down the street, and he’ll hoist her up on his shoulders even though she’s not a little kid anymore, and Sokka will complain that he wants a piggyback ride too, and their family will be together again.

Zuko answers her call on the first ring, and twenty minutes later he’s holding her close as she cries in his arms. She falls asleep crying on the sofa, and wakes up alone in her bed. There’s a note on her nightstand in Zuko’s all-too-familiar chicken scratch:  _ Don't come to school or I’ll tell Toph to drive you home. _ She laughs and shakes her head, then curls back under the covers to mourn.

She wakes up later to find Zuko seated at her desk working on homework. She’s not sure how long she’d been sleeping for, but the time on her phone reads 2:49 pm. “Zuko?” she says, voice heavy with sleep.

“Hey, Kat,” Zuko says, moving to sit at the foot of her bed. She reaches for him and he’s beside her in an instant, wrapping his arms around her torso and holding her close.

“How was school?” she asks, desperate to fill the silence with anything but grief.

“Mr. Pakku slipped in a puddle of vomit and broke his hip.”

“I miss all the interesting things,” Katara grumbles. 

“Am I not interesting enough for you?” Zuko teases lightly. She huffs and flicks his cheek.

“You know what I meant.”

“I know.”

She sighs and tucks her head under his chin, mind wandering as his hands run through her hair. He’s the best friend she's ever had; he’s infinitely more than that.

“Zuko?” she says suddenly.

“Yeah, Kat?”

“Two weeks ago you showed up drunk on my front porch.”

Zuko doesn’t like where this is going.

“You asked if anything happened in the morning. I lied.”

Zuko  _ really _ doesn’t like where this is going.

“You told me you loved me.”

Katara goes silent; Zuko’s fingers still in her hair.

“I did?” he says.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

Another beat passes in silence, until Katara sighs and rolls out of Zuko’s arms. It was stupid of her to bring up, especially when they’re both grieving and he recently got dumped.

“Kat—”

“Drop it, Zuko.”

“Kat, please.”

Katara turns to face him, and before he can convince himself not to, Zuko places his hands on her cheeks and draws her in for a kiss. She melts into him seamlessly; it’s better than anything he could’ve imagined.

“I’m in love with you,” she murmurs into his mouth. He chases her words with his lips, bruising his own confession against the soft skin.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

“I know.”

“I thought _I_ was Han Solo in this relationship!”

“In your dreams.”

**Author's Note:**

> as always, you can find me on tumblr [@crows-scones-and-exy-thrones](https://crows-scones-and-exy-thrones.tumblr.com/). if you enjoy my work, consider donating to [my ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/jupitercorvusprior)!


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